In June, I acquired a quantity of coffin adornments. Removed from the casket prior to cremation. Having fulfilled their ceremonial duties, they are returned to the funeral home, where they might be used again.
These objects are so obviously macabre, kitsch, somewhat sorrowful and totally absurd.
Sacred objects, manufactured for mass industry for the soundest of investments, that is our dearly departed.
These are objects of social inheritance, cultural artifacts from this age of mass production. A business catering even for the desire for reverence, and the second of absurdist solution: The belief in an transcendental realm. (The first being suicide, and the third and last being the acceptance of absurdity and concept of meaning as unknowable.) - Kierkegaard and Camus describe the solutions in their works, The Sickness Unto Death (1849) and The Myth of Sisyphus (1942):
Code# Hanging 1 (2013).
Found Objects; Coffin adornments. Metal Alloy.
The rehanging of the work would be site specific, tuned to the nuances of the viewer and space.
The works are presented with a ceremonial reverence, yet displaying the true nature of the object's industrial origin.
On the reverse of each object is a production code, engraved into the mould. There is a sudden realization, these objects have in them traces of a reality far removed from our lives. They are rational things, but so alien to the constructs of our lives that their production and true value, that is as commercial commodity, may be somewhat different to our perception of these objects in the constructs of our personal reality.
Somewhere, perhaps in Guandong or Zhejiang province, there are endless productions line of tiny messiahs. Habitually nailed onto their little crosses, packed and shipped away for consumption.
Some of the objects deconstructe,
Then placed on the expanded wall collage.
Rather than continuing the the complimentary geometric,they are inserted with some fluidity.
placing objects at its base, the collage began to feel suffocating and obtuse.
I would like
to imagine the piece constructed higher up, secured upon a wall, it's
lowest point circa 5ft. Emulating an alter of alloy.
Further development of project to follow.
In this most recent version of This Situation at IMMA,
the gallery is occupied by a group of six ‘participants’ or
‘interpreters’ whose choreographed actions generate a discussion of
cultural, economic and philosophical issues. Revealed only as
experiences in the time and space they occupy, his works exist for those
who encounter them and in their memories, but not as physical objects.
In that light, the following waffle is from my first encounter with this constructed situation.
I hear a lull of calculated voiced vertebrate around the corner of
the old medical school hallways. Finding a room inhabited by several
figures engaged in a complex dialogue. Relationship aesthetics or some
thing.. These participants, moving their bodies as though
actors in a Kabuki theatre. Their dense text is penetrated by a sudden
silence. They turn to me, as I suspect they did to the other
“non-participants" who huddle about the room with anticipating eyes. They say, "Wwwwwwweeelcome, to this, siiituation”.
So now here I am. Removed from the reality of a spectator. A space
cadet. I fumble my way to an inviting corner with impish pride.
The conversation began to flow again. Much in the way of
differentiating relations on aesthetic, perspective and morality. The
participants, in their ghostly regal manners, divulge dramatic
interpretations to what seems to be informed by their respective
disciplines. Musical theory, economic history and so forth. They
dissected it’s branches with revelatory deliverance. One paricipant, Suddenly turning to a spectator, and bursting the air, asks "Or, what do you think?" and points with boney finger, down towards the spectator.
She, clearly entranced with the situation
she has found herself in, engages like Siegfried and summarized her
perspective with flashing articulation. Relating all views as to being
shaped by circumstance of given time and place. You know…
A new participant was born, and now other spectators with fogged
breath eagerly tap the glass.
I'm a bit feather in
cap now of course, while at the time I shrank away from situation for fear of being
asked a terrifying question like "What do you think?"
me spew up some alphabet soup.
The conversation, which would continue
uninterrupted, except in the theatrical case of a newcomer, if that could
be called an interruption, goes on throughout the day.
And as conversation ebbed and flow, the medium of the artist, that is attention,
finally permitted me leave.
A few others followed out of the chattering
hall, and we several giddy strangers continued topics and shared
perspectives, our faces elated and tongues wagging. For even those who
had not directly engaged with dialogue, had by sheer presence shifted
and influenced mood. Each a crucial component to this, a truely unique self-reproducing